


Stay

by Awahili



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant Through 08x04, F/M, I Need These Two to Be OK, My Heart Still Hurts Y'all, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awahili/pseuds/Awahili
Summary: "By the time he made landfall in Evenfall, it had been almost three months since he’d seen her last. Three months without hearing her voice, without seeing the light in her eyes that only he seemed to be able to bring out of her. It was agony."Jaime seeks out Brienne after the War for the Throne is over to atone for his sins.





	Stay

After the dust cleared from King’s Landing, Jaime didn’t know much beyond the dead eyes of Cersei staring at him accusingly from the floor of the throne room. He could hear screaming still, cries that wafted in from the streets, but he had no idea what was going on beyond these four walls. He’d known how this was going to end -- had ridden south to see to it personally -- but nothing had prepared him for actually seeing it. She was his sister, his other half, and there was something empty and hollow within him now that she was gone. It wasn’t, as he’d once believed, an all-encompassing grief -- that same emotion that made widows throw themselves on their husbands pyres. But it seized him still and made him empty his stomach into the corner of the devastated throne room. 

The very next day he rode north with three horses, cycling them to keep them fresh. He slept in his saddle as often as he could, and the ride that normally took almost thirty days took him only twenty. He was down to one horse by the time he made it to the Neck, and all that kept him going for the last leg of the journey had been the thought of seeing her blue eyes again. He almost didn’t care if she never spoke to him again; he just needed to look in her eyes and apologize to her for how he’d left, to let her know she deserved so much more than a broken man even if he did love her better than anyone ever could. He was half-starved and sleep deprived when he rode through the gates of Winterfell, and his eyes searched wildly for her the moment he cleared the portcullis.

Lady Sansa met him in the courtyard with Podrick and her brother at her side. Jaime nearly fell off his horse, and only Pod’s quick reflexes kept him from eating dirt. He managed to ask after her, two breathy syllables that escaped him just before the blackness took him. Two days later, he woke to Pod’s anger and Lady Sansa’s disappointment. Brienne wasn’t in Winterfell any longer, she told him. She’d gone home. Jaime tried to rise then, but he was still too weak. Three days, Sansa told him. He could leave in three days.

He left in two.

It took him another week to get to White Harbor, four days to charter a ship to Tarth, and a two week journey south on the Narrow Sea. By the time he made landfall in Evenfall, it had been almost three months since he’d seen her last. Three months without hearing her voice, without seeing the light in her eyes that only he seemed to be able to bring out of her. It was agony. He asked after her in port, but the people of Tarth were wary of strangers, and even more so of those asking after their liege lord’s daughter. Jaime finally made his way up to Evenfall Hall to call on the Evenstar himself. Even if she wasn’t here, her father would know where she was.

But Selwyn Tarth listened to Jaime Lannister with cold disdain, his blue eyes so like his daughter’s but with none of the warmth that Jaime had come to know in those blissful nights at Winterfell. Jaime beseeched the man for his daughter’s whereabouts, but the Evenstar was stoic in the face of his petition. 

“My daughter returned to me quite different than the maid who left seven years ago,” he said, his deep voice reverberating off of the stone walls. “She was a knight, she told me, raised to that station by a noble, honorable man.”

Jaime felt his heart catch in his throat. How could she possibly still be proclaiming him honorable after all he’d put her through? After all he’d done? She should be cursing his name, not singing his praises. _You’re a good man_ , she’d told him. He almost believed it.

Lord Selwyn continued, unaware of Jaime’s internal struggle. “But beneath her pride, I saw her pain. I knew that her heart had been broken beyond anything I could fathom, try as she might to hide it from me. She was no longer my strong, confident star child. Instead she was melancholy and silent, and ever since her return she has spent most of her days alone.”

Hearing it tore at Jaime like a raging beast, clawing its way through his chest until he could no longer breath. His vision blurred with tears as he imagined her spirit, so bright and pure, diminished by his abhorrent actions. The stone hall was silent as a tomb, and Jaime resisted the urge to fill it. He’d already pleaded his case; there was little he could do but wait. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, the Lord of Tarth stood and descended the shallow stairs to tower over Jaime. Those blue eyes were cold and discerning, but he tried his best not to squirm beneath the forceful gaze. Instead he met the man’s stare with as much conviction and courage as he could muster. Then, without a word, Lord Selwyn turned and walked toward the door.

Only his Lannister pride, tattered as it was, kept him on his feet. Grief and despair crashed over him in waves as he fought the sobs that tried to erupt from his throat. He had been judged, and had been found wanting.

“Ser Jaime,” the Evenstar called from the archway. Jaime pulled himself together for precious few seconds and turned. “My daughter often likes to take walks along the beach down in Anchor Cove. You’ll find the path just behind the baker’s shop in Evenfall.” Relief slammed into him and he thanked the man effusively, striding back toward the main entrance at a rapid pace. Only Lord Selwyn’s voice, clear as a morning bell, stopped him for a moment. “Ser Jaime. You will adhere to her wishes, no matter what she decides.”

“You have my word, my lord.” And he was gone.

Just as the man had said, Jaime found a small reed-lined path just behind the bakery. He forced himself to keep a steady pace without running; the sandy stone beneath his feet was slippery and his balance wasn’t what it used to be. He could hear the shush of the waves somewhere ahead of him, and his footsteps hurried over the last of the rocks and into the sinking white sand of Anchor Cove. 

_The Sapphire Isle._

Jaime’s breath caught for a moment as he took in the stunning view of the cove. The waters around Tarth were indeed blue -- bluer than the seas further north or south -- but they were ruddy and dark compared to Anchor Cove. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the shimmer of sunlight on the waves and tried not to think of how it reminded him of her eyes, full and pleading with him to _stay_.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, something moved and he turned. She was standing with her back to him, a white gossamer shift billowing in the ocean breeze. She was wearing a gown, which would have been shocking enough, except that it was Lannister crimson and fell just past her knees. The combination of the color and the creamy expanse of her leg leading to bare feet made his heart thunder. The fingers of his left hand twitched in memory of that skin, and he could no longer stay so far from her. 

Whether she heard him coming or she was finished with her walk he didn’t know, but when she finally turned toward him he was only ten paces away. She froze, her face an unreadable mask. Jaime couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers, and suddenly all of the apologies and excuses he’d rehearsed on his nearly two month journey to return to her vanished from his mind. For several long minutes, there was nothing between them but the sound of the waves. Jaime matched his breathing to the ebb and flow of the water lapping at the shore, but still his gaze never wavered. Finally he could stand the silence no longer.

“Brienne.” It was barely a whisper, just loud enough to carry over the susurrus of the surf. Her face remained blank, but something in her eyes shifted toward mercy and he shuffled forward. 

Her step backward was like a knife in his heart but he couldn’t focus on that, not when her hand fluttered so delicately to her stomach. His eyes followed the movement and the sob that he had forced down earlier in Lord Selwyn’s hall burst from his throat as her fingers fell on the slight swell just above her high waistline. He fell to his knees as he reached for her, letting his eyes tell her all of the things he couldn’t seem to say.

An eternity passed as she met his stare with her own. But still she didn’t come. His eyes slipped closed as hot tears fell down his cheeks. He’d done more to her than anyone could forgive. He’d known, even as he nearly killed himself trying to get back to her, that there was every likelihood she would beat him black and blue before banishing him from her sight forever. It was no more than he deserved after what he’d done. He just hoped, with agony in his heart, that she would tell their child about him.

Something warm brushed against his cheek and it took him a moment to realize it was her thumb. She cradled his head in her hands again, her fingers slotting into the grooves she’d left on his soul the last time. He wanted to open his eyes, to see the truth of her forgiveness for himself, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t give himself that hope only to have it all dashed away when she told him to leave. 

“Jaime,” she sighed his name -- finally, _finally_ \-- and he broke. His forehead fell gently to her stomach, the firmness there altogether different from what he was used to but so, so very precious. She was too tall to embrace him properly from this position, but he didn’t care. His arms wrapped around her and held fast, reveling in the feel of her fingers carding through his hair. It felt like absolution. He breathed in her scent, a sweet smell to his senses that mixed with the salt of the sea around them. His tears had stopped but he kept his arms wrapped around her middle, afraid that if he let go she would disappear and he would be back on his knees in the Red Keep, choking on ash and blood.

Then she tugged ever so slightly, and he rose to his feet. His eyes opened to take her in, knowing that this was more than he could ever possibly deserve. His knees nearly buckled again at the tenderness in her gaze.

“Forgive me,” he pleaded softly, his one good hand gripping her arm desperately. He’d long stopped worrying about the tears streaming down his face, and the sharp breeze coming off of the ocean cooled his heated skin.

She was crying too, but unlike the last time there was nothing but love and happiness on her face. The first time he’d ever seen her cry had been in response to his own cruelty. It didn’t matter that he’d done it to keep her away from his mad sister and the destruction she wrought. He knew as he rode south from Winterfell that he would never forget the look of utter desolation that had overtaken her in that moment. 

But now. _Oh now_. His mind repainted that image of her with this one, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips and her blue eyes shimmering like the sea. Her hands still framed his face, and he didn’t stop himself from gripping her right wrist with his left hand in another echo of that night. She kissed him then -- soft, sweet and full of promise -- before whispering one word against his lips.

“Stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm clinging onto remnants of hope that everything will be okay. I am placing my trust in Nikolaj that Jaime's end isn't an end at all, but a "new beginning." I will honestly be devastated if D&D have butchered his character so horrendously for nothing at all. Two more days until we all find out what the hell is going to happen next. If I don't see any of you until then, happy Sunday!


End file.
